


fine balances

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alignment Swap, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Dark Side Rey, Dreams, Empress Rey, Established Finn/Rey, F/M, Faustian Bargain, First Meetings, Knight of Ren Finn, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Resistance Member Ben Solo, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sith Lord Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: He says nothing, swallows around his pleas and needs and desires. She can pull them from his mind if she so chooses, each and every one. They’re all a tangle in his thoughts, jumbled and twined together. Vines could not bind him more easily than the conflict inside of him already does. She need do nothing to lock him in a cage.





	fine balances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



Ben has heard stories of the oculus that stands in the corner of the Empress’s throne room. It’s not so impressive up close, just thick curving glass mounted in a frame of dark durasteel. There is nothing, at the moment, to see through the lens despite Ben’s wish for there to be. Something this powerful should hold answers, illuminate. It’s why he’s here.

Hypothetically. Personally. That’s the excuse anyway.

He’d like to get a look at the thing’s Attendants, too, but he fears he may not be that lucky. He’s been stuck here for ages, alone save for a pair of guards. The wide seat of the throne is empty, devoid of the pair who hold all the power in their hands, who can decide Ben’s fate for him.

He is ever his father’s son, jumping into the middle of a firefight on behalf of his mother’s cause. This firefight, so far, is of the metaphorical sort and he can only hope it remains that way, but given the luck that runs in his family, he can feel no certainty in his odds.

On the other hand, he can definitely feel the displeasure of the guards standing sentinel on either side of the throne. Their red, helmeted heads follow his every step, of which there have been many. He paces when he’s nervous and he has so many reasons to be nervous. Mostly because so far nobody has tried to kill him. He’d rather expected that. But he’d merely been shuffled off to the seat of the First Order’s power and made to wait. That’s worse, in a way.

Is it pettiness that guides the decision? A part of him hopes so. Anything to suggest the Empress and her Lord are human beneath all the power they wield. From afar, they are nothing more than the Resistance’s tireless, vicious enemy.

A clear, cool voice rings out. If not for the depth of knowledge in it, terrible and beautiful, it would sound like it belonged to a young woman. But the Empress is more than that. All the stories say so. She was born in the Unknown Regions, it is known, so many years ago now that even she doesn’t know the truth of it. All the stories say the Force is with her, that the Force made her.

And Ben’s no Jedi, turned his back on that possibility long ago, but even he can sense it. If the Force were to take human form, arms and legs, a head and hair and body, it might feel like the Empress does. She is a ripple, a wave, a storm condensed down to the limits of the human form. Ben suppresses a shudder and reminds himself that he’s here for a purpose.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Ben Solo.”

He turns and pastes on a smile on his face. He’s been told is charming in an offhand way, though he knows charm won’t save him. Maybe a bit of recklessness will. Surprise stops him in his tracks. Garbed in black, Lord Ren stands at her side, a neutral expression on his face.

He hadn’t known. Hadn’t felt him. The most powerful Force user in the galaxy and he’s a void in the Force, a blank spot, easily overlooked. Whether by design or accident, he is entirely concealed within fabric of the universe, a breath taken and held in the midst of a symphony. It is terrifying in a way that even the Empress is not.

Ben swallows.

Maybe this has been a mistake.

“I don’t like to disappoint,” Ben says, crooking that smile even more, feigning a degree of cultivated disinterest that he does not feel. No doubt both the Empress and Lord Ren sense it anyway. Perhaps they will give him credit for the attempt. “Hey, tell me about the oculus. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The Empress’s gaze sweeps over him and then to the device and back. It’s almost as though she doesn’t see him and, for a moment, he feels safe once again. Then again, it’s not much safer on Crait, is it? The First Order is so close to discovering its existence already.

Ben can buy them time. He can buy them time and get what he wants in one fell swoop.

“That thing?” She steps forward just as Ren does. Their boots thump against the floor almost in tandem. Ren, though, veers wide and nods at the guards that Ben has, frankly, forgotten entirely about. A trick, perhaps? They certainly aren’t very forgettable. Or shouldn’t be. 

Their armor clicks as they move toward the exit. The motion of their bodies is preternaturally jerky, yet somehow still elegant. Ben’s skin prickles as he watches.

He can’t stop himself from watching. 

As soon as they’re gone, he feels no better even though there are two fewer weapons in the room as a result.

“It’s a navigation tool only,” the Empress remarks. If her surprise at his question is false, he cannot tell the deception. “Nothing to fear.”

“It’s impressive.”

“That,” she says, clipped, “is a form of fear.”

He’d imagined, when he thought about her at all, her dressed in gowns, layers and layers of pompous fabric, weighed down in velvets and deadly lace. Instead, she is lithe, covered in lightweight linen in darkest black. Thin armor plate protects her chest, curves around her shoulders and sides. It is not an affectation, he doesn’t think, but she only shields herself as much as necessary to not risk being played for a fool.

A lightsaber is locked to a belt slung around her hips. He wonders if its blade is red, if its heart is made of bloody kyber.

Ren drops onto the throne, throws one leg over the arm, insouciant. And yet, there is nothing relaxed about his expression no matter how much he wants his smile to look friendly and amused. His features betray him to Ben. Through long experience and some skill in reading people, he knows everything about the Empress’s favored Knight, her partner, her everything. Ben envies that devotion.

And Ben knows him the way he knows himself. His heart throbs in sympathy at the realization. 

He, too, has had to make a choice. He doesn’t need the Force to know that.

It’s been as hard on him as Ren’s was whenever Ren made his. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Whatever the case may be, Ben senses that he’s where he needs to be. Perhaps Ben will have that much certainty one day.

Would Ren skewer him where he stands if Ben were to call him _Finn_? And what if he called the Empress by her own name?

A part of him wants to risk the familiarity just to see what happens.

Ben Solo is not the man he should be. A man in his position shouldn’t so cavalierly cavort with the enemy. A man in his position shouldn’t want to.

“You want it?” Rey asks. She speaks as though she’s considering offering the thing to him, like it’s a trinket to be given away. Her head tilts with curiosity. A strand of her hair falls from the tight coif she wears. It brushes her cheek. Every instinct in him screams at him to push it behind the delicate shell of her ear, perhaps let his fingers linger over her pulse point. “The oculus?”

He’s heard stories about how effective the oculus is, how invulnerable. Sensors and sweeps can be baffled and scrambled. The oculus, if it knows what it is looking for, cannot be denied. There is no hiding from it. According to the stories, that is. And Ben can’t say the mystique is entirely without merit. It seems no matter where the Resistance goes, the First Order always finds them.

Yes, he wants it.

He wants it gone. 

That might be the only way to save the Resistance.

“What would you do with it?” Rey steps closer to him, so close he wants to back away, so close he wants to brush his fingers over the bare skin of her neck, the curve of her cheek. He wants so much and she talks like she is in a charitable mood. “If I gave it to you?”

Her chin tips up in challenge. Her eyes are considering. He should fear her regard more than he does. Her gaze is a trap.

He says nothing, swallows around his pleas and needs and desires. She can pull them from his mind if she so chooses, each and every one. They’re all a tangle in his thoughts, jumbled and twined together. Vines could not bind him more easily than the conflict inside of him already does. She need do nothing to lock him in a cage.

He’s done that to himself already.

He minds it less and less every day.

“Are you planning on answering?” Finn asks. He sounds disinterested, but disinterested is not the word Ben would use to describe him. No, Finn cares far too much. Like Ben.

“I have these dreams,” Ben answers, offhand. Casualness has never come easy to him, but he’s learned from the best how to feign it. Well, he’s learned from someone who thinks he’s the best anyway. There is merit in that, too. “Not all the time, but often enough.” Finn leans forward with interest. Rey finally approaches him, takes a seat next to him, wraps her hand in his and rests their twined fingers on his knee. The gentleness of the act disrupts Ben’s thoughts. When he speaks again, his words come out awkwardly. They make him flush with embarrassment. Some of his dreams are not gentle and he doesn’t have the words, awkward or not, to describe them. “They’re about you. Both of you.”

“Should we be flattered?” Rey is amused, leans into Finn’s side. A genuine smile finally pulls at his mouth. It’s a good look for him. Ben would like to ensure he smiles more and has no idea how to achieve that goal.

He’s never been in the business of making people happy.

“You can be whatever you like.”

“What does this have to do with the oculus?”

“I’ve dreamt that the oculus is in pieces on the floor.” It’s more than that, really. The glass is scattered across the ground. Each piece flickers in the light and sparkle like diamonds. Rey is smiling, vicious. Finn is less certain, but resolved and equally stunning.

All Ben feels in the dreams is relief. That sensation sometimes clings to him in his waking hours. Sometimes, too, it is the only thing that gets him through the day.

He is not the son he should be, not a son of Rebellion heroes.

If his mother knew his true intentions, he’d be in the brig.

But he can do this one last thing for her.

“That’s quite a thing to dream.” Rey’s legs cross, her ankle brushing Finn’s shin. She does it again, deliberate. “And how would you pay for this destruction, Ben Solo?”

 _I’m no Solo_ , Ben thinks. He’ll be nothing to his father after this. Both he and the general will want to smear his name from their minds and hearts. Ben Solo will only be the child they lost. Oh, it’ll be sad, so sad, but they’ll carry on. They’ll fight. They don’t need him. Not the way he needs Finn and Rey.

They seem to know it, too. Relish it even. Rey, by the hunger that dogs her every step, growing as his intention becomes clear to her. Finn, by the realization that Ben understands, that he doesn’t have to explain himself to Ben, that he’s found one more person in the galaxy like Rey, who doesn’t require him to be anything other than what he is.

He doesn’t have to tell them that he intends to defect, not to the First Order, no, but to them. Specifically. Exclusively. It is a fine distinction to make, but a distinction all the same.

It’s a gamble he’s willing to take that they’ll understand the difference.

“What of the day we crush the Resistance once and for all?”

Ben doesn’t believe they will is the thing. Leia has a historically good track record for undermining her enemies. He intends to protect them from her for as long as he can.

The Resistance. The First Order. It doesn’t matter. Galactic politics are a tidepool. It flows this way and that no matter what any one person does. It’s bigger than Rey and Leia, than Finn and Ben. Win or lose, it’ll tip eventually. If not now, then later.

They won’t have to be taken down alone.

Perhaps not at all if Ben plays it right.

He inclines his head. “I’ll be by your side,” he answers. “If you’ll have me.”

With little more than a flick of Rey’s wrist, the oculus’s lens shatters. The glass skitters across the floor. A few shards ricochet off of Ben’s boot, shooting off in different directions before slowing to a stop.

It’s the only answer he needs.

Finn beckons him forward.

He’s where he’s supposed to be.


End file.
